Justice League: Dark Beginnings, Chapter 4
by tngolfplayer
Summary: During the press conference an angered John Blake rants at the tv. Bruce gets new gadgets. Superman becomes Voyeuristic.


Twenty miles away, in the bat cave, John Blake was watching the newscast, growing more furious every moment. How dare Bruce come back from the dead? If he thought he was getting the cape back he was mistaken. Blake began furiously moving back and forth, his anger growing more and more intense. Then, at the peak of his anger, as always, the voice came back.

"Blake, he is not the true Batman. He is not the one who can do what needs to be done for the city, only you can only you can."

"I know!" screamed Blake. Always close to the edge, the smile he had shown the world to hide the anger and pain gone. "I know!" he howled in madness.

"You should also know the witch beside him is magically manipulating the minds of everybody watching this and reading this. Here, on the burial site of the ancient ones, our magic's protected you. But she must be the next to die. The first of many" they whispered as they faded away.

"Yes, they must all die for what is going on. The corruption, making orphans out of children must end. He never could. I must." He growled. Returning the Bat Suit, he began making some more modifications which would allow him to fulfill his destiny and clean this city of the scum that never seem to leave.

Back in Gotham, Bruce was answering questions politely, normal questions, as everybody accepted the official story. Waving one last time he and Zatana left the podium and went to the car where Alfred was waiting. Climbing into the back seat they found another slender dark haired woman who literally oozed sexual tension.

"Any problems with the charm I gave the three of you? Zatana asked. "None" replied Lucias and Alfred.

"It clashed with everything I had to wear" Selena purred. "I almost wore nothing at all, but I would have positively died if it caused our older friends a heart attack."

Bruce rolled his eyes and motioned for Alfred to go on. Time to rest, then tonight, he hunts.

Clark watched them leave, his vision and hearing picking up on what was said. Two women, Bruce, and two other older gentlemen he didn't know. Grimacing he decided he needed to make a formal request for an interview with Mr. Wayne. Private. Remote. Away from other people in case the Batman was really as crazy as they say.

Later that evening, as darkness was falling, Blake put on the suit and proceeded to get in the car. Say what you would about Wayne he thought, but the man had taste in cars. Accelerating towards Gotham, he pulled up a tracking radar that would show him the way to tonight's…fun. A druggie was going to lead him to his dealer, then after some persuasion, he would be hopefully finishing off a drug ring he had been working on. He smiled a wolfish smile at the thought of trying out some of his new toys.

Bruce say in his penthouse alone, analyzing the reporter who disturbed him so much. Running a software facial recognition software he developed he watched as possible matches were found and either put to the side, or discarded. He knew the reporters name now, a Clark Kent, from metropolis. He authored the big story on Superman that was quite detailed. On a hunch, Bruce pulled up the best possible picture of Superman he could find, and ran it through the software. It returned a 75% match. Frowning, he punched a few buttons, removing Clark's glasses and the probability went up to 99%. Sitting back he pondered what this meant. It was no coincidence he was here, especially after Batman had made a violent appearance recently. He stood and went over to the hidden closet, palmed the panel, and opened the door. Behind the door was one of the latest Bat suits he made, right before his retirement. For the next couple of minutes he made a few modifications he thought may help him, then for the first time in over a year, he put the suit back on. The thrill of the suit was incredible. The feeling that somehow, he was home, and was who he was born to be flowed through him. Killing the penthouse lights, he stepped out onto the balcony, then out into nothing, free falling.


End file.
